


A Study In Flowers

by adrift_me



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Romance, Spring, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uncontrolled Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 22:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10580826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Requested prompt:Credence and Percival are having a picnic in spring. Credence is reading a romantic novel. When Credence reaches the part in which the characters confess their love, all the flowers around them bloom.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/), I am eagerly taking your prompts!  
> 

Contentment is a sleeping draught, Graves thinks. It puts your vigilance to sleep and erases your apprehension. Had he been young and hot-headed as he used to be, he would have said such a comfort is a weakness and he must be rid of it immediately. Right now, after weeks of torture and years of healing, complacency is all he is craving for.

The wind is blowing softly, the sun is partly hidden behind a fluffy cloud. The tree Graves and Credence reside under is large and protective, its powerful branches extending to create a comfortable shadow.

A page is turned. Graves looks down at Credence in his arms. The boy is fully absorbed in a book. It’s a no-maj romantic novel that seems to occupy every citizen’s bookshelf and brings delights to men and women alike. Credence has gotten to the middle of it and was now intensely reading into the lines. Graves himself has never been a romantic enough to touch upon these novels, but for his Credence he would buy a hundred of them.

Percival moves his head back and rests it on the tree trunk. His gaze lazily brushes the lush lawn grass, the distant view of a no-maj village, a ragged line of a forest along the horizon. It’s late spring and everything is yet awakening, life slowly finding its way back after cold winter slumber. It’s their first picnic of the season and he is glad to catch some fresh spring air after months of being stuck in warm confines of their cottage.

A sudden change catches Percival’s eye. He sees it beneath his legs, around their picnic blanket, spread all over the lawn. Dozens and dozens of flowers appear out of nowhere, they open up their lilac, pink and white heads and strive towards the sun. Attuned to magical changes, Graves can’t help but feel it buzz in the air. And attuned even more so to Credence, he knows such a magical change is of his doing.

Graves rests his head on Credence’s shoulder, their cheeks touching softly, and feels how hot they are.

“What are you reading, Credence? Something so unspoken of that your cheeks are now of such a rose red colour?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles. Graves manages to catch a glimpse of “... _ because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me? _ ” right before Credence closes the volume with surprising intensity. His shaking fingers clench around the paper side as he hides it away from Graves’ reach.

Percival laughs softly, brushing Credence’s cheek with his lips.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” he whispers, drawing the boy closer in an affectionate rush. “Such an outburst of magic is… beautiful, Credence.”

“I’m sorry…” he says quietly and hoarsely. His hands push the man away and he is trying to escape Graves’ arms, sliding off his lap. Graves pulls him back protectively, turning the boy to face him and caressing his cheek.

“Credence. I will buy you a thousand more novels if what you feel makes flowers bloom like this. You don’t have to say anything,” he presses his forehead to Credence’s and pecks his lips with a fleeting kiss. A few seconds pass and Credence’s lips stretch in a smile. He leans forward, waiting to be kissed, he loves  _ being _ kissed, and Graves complies, catching his soft lips with his own.

The following day a small stack of novels appears on the boy’s bedside table. In a week they dedicate a whole bookcase to them. And every day, every sunny morning, Graves wakes up to see their garden blooming as if July arrived early. Thickets of white baby’s breath, bushes of lavender, wild tangles of sharp white and red roses are scattered across the yard in celebration of love. Graves exhales, wondering how beautiful magic can be if tamed wisely.


End file.
